Page 98 of Modern Romance Collection February 2025, 1-4

She’d missed him.

‘Hi...’

‘Hi.’ He looked stern, as if he was about to say something else, but then his expression relaxed. ‘I was wondering where you were.’

‘Stuck in traffic.’

He took her hand and Faye instinctively wanted to burrow closer. He brought out something very feminine in her that she’d repressed for a long time. A need to feel looked after. Safe. She instantly felt more at ease with her hand in his. And it should annoy her, but it didn’t.

‘Come on,’ he said, tugging her into the room thronged with the beautiful and the famous and the rich. ‘I’m having an argument with the governor about the merits of funding art programmes and he needs to hear from a passionate expert, not an idiot like me.’

Faye shoved down all the niggles, psychological and actual—the prickling at the back of her throat, her increasingly fuzzy head and the way she felt hot and cold at the same time—and let Primo lead her into the fray.

‘Why insist on separate rooms when we know we’ll end up in bed together?’ Primo was asking Faye in the back of the car as they left the event a few hours later.

For the first time since Faye had met Primo she could actually say that making love to him wasn’t foremost in her mind. But the car was pulling to a halt outside the hotel now and Primo had somehow magically appeared at her door in what seemed like a nanosecond to help her out.

She stumbled a little.

‘Are you okay?’ His hand tightened on her elbow.

‘I’m fine. Just tired, I think...maybe coming down with something.’

They were in the elevator now and Primo looked at her. ‘You look flushed.’

He put a hand to her forehead and Faye wanted to swat it away, but it felt like too much of an effort.

‘I think I might have caught something. I’m sure it’ll be gone in the morning.’

When they got to their rooms, and Faye stopped outside her door, Primo asked, ‘Are you sure you’re okay?’

Faye nodded, but winced slightly. It was starting to hurt when she moved her head. ‘I’m just tired.’

‘I’m coming in with you.’

Faye protested. ‘Primo, I’m not sure I’m really feeling—’

‘Not for that.’

He took the key out of her hand and swiped it, opening her door. Inside, he turned on some lights and then went to the connecting door that linked their rooms. He opened the lock on Faye’s side and looked at her.

‘I’m going to open the door on my side too. Let me know if you need anything, okay?’

He handed back her room key. Faye took it and watched him walk out again. A minute later he was unlocking the door on his side, so all Faye would have to do was open her door.

He called through the doors. ‘Night, Faye.’

‘Night, Primo.’

Somehow Faye managed to undress and wash herself, even though it felt like a monumental task. She fell into bed, hoping that by morning she’d be feeling better.

But she wasn’t.

She was worse.

Much worse.

She woke to a persistent banging noise, and when she tried to speak nothing came out. Her throat was agony, as if filled with hot needles.

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